


Midlife Crisis

by DevilishKurumi



Series: Midlife Crisis [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, M/M, Multi, Threesome, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilishKurumi/pseuds/DevilishKurumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sollux Captor has just relocated to Houston for a dead-end job and all he wants is to drink and wallow in his thirty years of shitty luck.  Instead, he gets tag-teamed by a pair of blond twins who really, really want to take him home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midlife Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> we need more older dudes getting molested by striders i don't understand how this doesn't happen more frequently

            You don't like bars.  You hate not having liquor even more, though, and since your motel is closer to this dingy little piece of shit than a liquor store, you're making an exception in favor of getting as completely drunk as you can in the shortest amount of time possible.

            You think it's pretty fucking pathetic, edging thirty-one and still going to bars where the clientele doesn't seem to pass for eighteen let alone twenty-one, but you can't really give a shit.  You take a shot of tequila and suck on a lime wedge and try not to think about how easy it had been for you to relocate for work after ten years in one apartment.

            You'd considered getting a house.  Guess it was a good thing you were too fucking stuck to bother going through with that one.

            "You look down," someone says to your left.  You barely restrain yourself from groaning - the last fucking thing you need is someone making conversation with you.

            "Okay," is all you say.  _Take the hint and leave._

            Another shot comes your way, and you look up - you hadn't fucking asked for one yet, what the hell - only to see some blond kid barely past twenty sitting beside you at the bar, wearing dark shades in the middle of the dim bar.  His face is passive, but you get the impression that he's supposed to be smiling or something.  His hair is swept up with product, and you think he has a tattoo or two on his left arm.  You scowl and push the shot in his direction.

            "Don't be like that."  He has a twangy Texan drawl, less pronounced than the girl you talked to at the motel, but still distinct.

            "I didn't ask for it," you say, wincing internally when you hear how much worse your lisp is now that you've started drinking.

            "Looked like you could use it.  Don't worry," he says, "No strings attached to that shot."

            You frown at him, but his passive expression doesn't change.  So you finally take the shot, figuring _what the hell,_ and also figuring _he's building up to a joke_ , because you might be a complete and utter shut-in who finds code more attractive than people, but you can still tell that he's young and hot and you know full well that you are neither.  You haven't been attractive since that one time in high school when Aradia said you looked cute.  A pity shot.  You can handle that.

            "This one's got strings, though," says a voice from your right, and when you look you can feel your stomach drop to your fucking knees, because the blond barely-twenty kid is a mirror image of the one to your left, only with tousled hair that's never seen product in its life, no tattoos and a lazy, well-practiced smirk.  _Fuck._

            Twins.  **_Fuck._**

            You must be making an awful face, showing off your ugly, nicotine-stained, crooked teeth, because you can feel your jaw working and that means you're gaping like a fish out of water, but the twin on your right doesn't look put off in the slightest.  He just keeps smirking and says, "You want it?"

            "What?" you splutter, and the one behind you chuckles.  You desperately wish you had shaved before you left your room.  That you'd brushed your teeth more than once today, that you'd showered, that you had worked out for the last ten years, that your nose wasn't so crooked and sharp, more straight and smooth like theirs.  That you hadn't just been transferred halfway across the country in a middle-tier job going nowhere - you just wish you had something to fucking offer here, to make this not just a joke, to not make you such an easy target.

            "The shot," the twin says, still smirking, "You want it?"

            "What did you think he meant?" comes somewhere near your ear, but you can't look back around.

            "Nothing, I - what the fuck do you two want?"  You force yourself to snap, because otherwise you're going to sound so terribly lost.

            "To buy you drinks," says the one in front of you.

            "To cheer you up," says the one behind you, almost at the same time.

            "Same thing," they chorus.

            Fuck, oh god fucking damn everything.

            You wish you were someone else right now.

            "Dave," says one.

            "Dirk," says the other.

            "Oh, god," you say, "I did not come here for this."

            "We can leave if you want," Dirk says.  "But I've got a good eye.  You probably want us to stay."

            "Fuck yeah, you want us to stay.  And seriously, dude, drink this, I don't do tequila and I don't pay for liquor that doesn't get drunk."

            You take the shot and only barely remember what he said about strings, and you don't ask until after you take it.  There's your limit; any more and you're going to regret tonight more than you already do.

            "What were the strings?"

            "What's your name?" Dirk asks.

            "Sollux," you say, and you almost look back to him.  You end up staring at the counter.

            "Tholluth," Dave mimics, and you wince.  A second later, there's a thud, and Dave yelps.  "Ow, fuck, dude!"

            "Don't be a fucking dick," Dirk says.  He doesn't sound angry or irritated, but you can tell that's exactly what he is.  It's weird.  "Sollux," he continues, and now you look at him.  He doesn't look any different, just as passive, but you can tell he's being sincere when he says, "You have really beautiful eyes."

            "--What?"

            "You were asking about the strings," he says, like he didn't hear you, "They're not really attached.  More like loosely wrapped around the glass."

            "Like guidelines," Dave says.

            "Suggestions, more like," Dirk corrects.  "But, you know.  Strong suggestions.  To come hang out with us."

            You know what that means.  You might be thirty years old, but you know what the fuck it means when barely-legal twins say they want to hang out after buying you drinks and complimenting your eyes.

            "Seriously," Dirk says.  "Heterochromia, right?  It's unique.  You probably hear it a lot.  They're gorgeous."

            You wonder where the bartender is, he should be kicking them out or something.  "I want to see," Dave says, "I didn't get to see, c'mon."  You turn your head, slowly, like a man facing his firing squad.  He leans in close, and you desperately wish he'd touch your face or something, but he just stares through his glasses.  "Oh, yeah, cool."  He pushes his shades down his nose, and your eyes lock with his, deep amber.  Like honey.  Shit.  "Yeah, dude.  That's fuckin' nice."

            "I, uh."

            "Sorry," Dirk says, "We're coming on kind of strong tonight.  We've been watching you for the last half-hour, is all.  Kind of hard to go easy when you have that long to discuss tactics."

            You should be creeped out by that.  But you aren't, because you don't think Dirk means that they were stalking you.  Just watching you here at the bar and - god.  You wonder what they've been thinking of for half an hour, if your mind is racing after only a few short minutes.  You wonder where the joke is.

            "It's okay," you say, and Dave smirks and pushes his sunglasses back up.  You think it's because of the lisp, but you don't know.  "You've... been watching me."

            "Yeah."

            You look at Dirk.  "For half an hour."

            "Yep."

            "So, what do you say?  Gonna come chill with us?  Or do you got other shit to do?"

            Dave's foot nudges your calf.  You think, for the millionth time, _twins_ , and you think about how you never bought a house and you moved for a dead-end job because you were too tired to fight the change, too fucking tired to fight anything anymore, and finally you think about how this could be the one chance you'll get at raging against your shitty, boring life.

            "Yeah," you say, "Okay."

            Dave's smirk turns less sardonic, more like a crooked grin than anything, and your stomach flip-flops.

            "You want to come back with us?" Dirk asks, like it's a business deal.  "We live kind of close."

            "I, uh.  Have - a room," you start, and you can see from the tilt in Dave's neck that he's looking across your shoulder at Dirk.

            "Yeah," Dirk says, "Kind of thought so.  More comfortable for you?"

            You realize he's asking because he thinks you're uncomfortable with this.  Which you are, yeah, but not because you're worried they're going to drug you and steal your fucking liver or something.  Still, "It - might be easier?"

            "Yeah," Dave says, "Definitely.  Not sure I'd make it all the way home, anyway."

            "Our apartment's a mess," Dirk adds.

            "Because you have your weird puppets everywhere."

            Another thud, and you see a foot lash out and kick Dave.  He yelps, but he doesn't say anything.  It's... kind of cute.  Like regular adorable, instead of just hot.  It definitely makes Dirk feel less like a machine duplicate of Dave, at least.

            "Okay," you say.  You look over the counter for the bartender.

            "It's cool," Dave says, "I got this."

            "Do you have an extra cigarette?" Dirk asks, "I could use a smoke."

            You wonder if he knows you smoke because of your teeth, or your nails, or the fact that you smell like shit.  You nod.  "Yeah."

            "You guys go on ahead," Dave drawls, like he has nothing better to do, "I'll be out in a sec.  Save me a puff."

            "You got it, bro," Dirk says, and then his hand touches your arm as he climbs off the stool.  You're completely unable to resist following him out of the bar.  You don't look back.

            It's pretty cool out, you guess, but you're so used to Boston that it still feels unseasonably warm.  You guess that's what you get.  Dirk doesn't question your shaky grip on the soft pack of Camels, and when you can't find your lighter, he pulls one out himself.  He lights your cigarette for you first, and that feels old-fashioned and overly polite, but you appreciate it anyway.

            "You can take off, if you want," he says, and you let the tequila and the nicotine mingle in your brain and calm your nerves.  "Really.  No hard feelings."

            "No," you say.  "Fuck, no.  I'm okay.  Just..."  You shrug.  You don't know how to begin explaining yourself, especially without making it a fucking issue.  "Are you two really brothers?"

            Dirk chuckles, dry and low, like he's heard that one before, and he sucks in smoke and blows it out through his nose.  "Yeah.  We're brothers.  Not identical, technically, if you want to know for your bucket list or something, but we're twins."

            "Oh."

            "Sorry if this sounds weird," he says, and you don't believe that one for a fucking second, "But the reason we sort of picked you out of the crowd to start with - well."  He gestures, and you look down to see your keychains dangling out of your pocket; the scraggly remains of a high-school friendship bracelet, a plastic Shrinky Dink of a poorly drawn Nintendo controller, and, of course, a thick rubber Gemini symbol. 

            You can't help but laugh, pushing your glasses up to rub at your eyes.  "Oh my god."

            He chuckles again, breathes smoke and says, "Yeah.  Sold Dave on it pretty quick, at least."  He frowns, and you're a little surprised at how much of a difference an expression makes with him.  "Don't misunderstand me, though.  We're no less sincere because of a coincidence like that.  I would have bought you that drink either way."

            You don't know what to say to that, so you just nod and inhale and wait for Dave.  Your chest flutters.

            "Yeah, okay," Dave says, pushing through the door and into the cool night air, "We're all good.  Save me any nicotine?"

            Dirk tilts his head, and then takes the longest drag of your life.  You know what he's thinking before he's even done it.  It's impossible not to.  He leans in close to Dave, cups the back of his neck with a hand, and pulls him into an open-mouthed kiss.

            They both exhale smoke, and look at you.

            "Yeah," Dave says after a second, and you see that he doesn't close his mouth completely, "Yeah, fuck.  No way we'd get to the apartment, him looking at us like that."

            "My thoughts exactly."

            Dave reaches out and touches your right arm; Dirk touches your left.  They know what sides they want of you, and they don't even need to wrap their hands around your wrists because you're already moving, fumbling with your wallet to dig out your keycard.  You don't have to go through the lobby to get to your room, it's all outdoors.  You didn't realize how thankful you were for that until just now.

            "Are you guys going to take off your shades, or what?" you ask, tossing your cigarette butt.  You feel more confident.  Not nearly enough to not be completely fucking useless, but enough that you can fake it for a few minutes.

            "Maybe," Dave says.

            "If you ask nicely enough," Dirk says.  He doesn't insinuate anything with his tone, but you take it as one anyway.

            You're so fucking hard, you're not going to make it to the fucking room at this rate.  It's only half a block, but it feels like fucking six.

            You light another cigarette.  Dave looks over his shoulder at you.  "That wound up, huh?"

            "Uh."  You try not to laugh again, but you can't help it, a hysteric little giggle coming up your throat.  "Yeah."

            "Fuck," he says.  "We should just go to the park, Dirk, it's fucking _right over there_ ," and you're kind of relieved that he sounds a little desperate.

            "Beds are better," Dirk replies, but he looks back at you as well.  You want to kiss him.  Can you kiss him?  Can you kiss either of them?  What are the rules, here?  Fuck, you want so much in this moment, more than you've ever wanted in your life.  Dirk drops a hand along his waist, then lower, adjusts himself in his pants as he walks and you are so done in.  You'll do whatever they fucking ask at this point.  They could tell you to get into a tub of ice and you wouldn't even need to be drugged to do it.

            _Twins!_ your mind shouts, no longer panicked or exasperated, just giddy for the first time in a long while.

            You turn the keycard over in your hands as you reach the motel, your room at the back corner by the swimming pool.  Dave bounces on his heels.

            The cool, air conditioned room eases you in some imperceptible way.  You've only been here for a night, and you're only going to be here for two more before your new apartment is ready, but it's your safe spot for now, and you take it as exactly that.  Your laptops, plural, rest on the desk, the television still on, the light on, laundry piled in the closet with a flight-wrinkled suit hanging above it, and you feel fucking comfortable in here.  It's like your home, except smaller, cleaner, and more temporary.

            Dave immediately checks out your computers, not touching but admiring nonetheless.  "Nice machines, Sollux," he says, and he genuinely means it, even if there's a layer or three of aloofness thrown on top.  You can see through that shit - been there, done that.

            "How long are you in town for?" Dirk asks.  It feels like you've invited them over for more drinks, or just actual hanging out.  It's... kind of nice.  Eases you in a way you didn't think you could be at this point.

            "Who knows," you shrug, "I got relocated here from Boston, so.  A while.  This is just until my apartment is done being renovated.  Overshot the dates, I guess."

            Dirk nods.  "Assuming your apartment's near here, you're in a good area.  Nice move."

            You don't say that it was almost entirely arranged by the nice secretary at the main office.  She's always helping you out when she can.  She's one of three numbers in your phone.

            Dirk sits on the edge of your bed; your knees go a little weak.  Dave is still looking at your laptops.

            "Come here," Dirk says, and you do.  You don't know if he expected you to sit beside him or something, but you don't want to.  You know exactly what you want, and when Dirk lifts a hand and puts it in your hair, you don't hesitate to lean in.  If he stops you, you'll deal with the awkwardness.  Tell him you'll make it up to him - but he doesn't stop you.

            His mouth is hot and wet and it tastes faintly of cigarette smoke, like he doesn't smoke a pack and a half a day like you, and you moan into it.  You sit on your knees in front of him and let him tilt your head, exhaling heavily through his nose.  His fingers dig into your scalp.

            You don't think about it when you drop your hands to his belt buckle, undoing the leather and pulling it away.  He licks your teeth with his tongue and you fumble with his fly.  You can hear yourself whining with every breath, but you don't care.  Fuck it.  Fuck everything.  Fuck Boston and Houston and IT services and relocation.  You pull your mouth away and barely catch your breath before you're bending down to kiss the tip of his dick, wrapping your lips around the head, biting the underside of your tongue a little as you use it to lave at him.

            "Oh, _fuck_ ," Dirk hisses.

            "Jesus," Dave says, "Look at him."

            You can feel them both watching you, and for the first time in your life, you refuse to think it's distaste being directed at you.  Dirk murmurs and runs his hands through your too-shaggy hair.

            "I can't wait to see that mouth on my dick," Dave says.  Dirk tenses below you, and you open your mouth and breathe hot air against him.  He shudders, and Dave says, "Fuck."

            "Sollux," Dirk says, and his hand in your hair grips hard, pulling you away from him, "Dave won't stop bitching until you help him out."

            You look up at Dirk and see that his sunglasses are gone.  You grin, giddy, and he almost smirks back at you.  But not quite.  His eyes are almost orange under the hotel lights.

            A hand comes from your left, brushing through your hair, and you look up higher to see Dave staring down at you.  His mouth is still slightly open.  You can see his erection through his jeans, and you have to forcibly keep yourself from tearing at his fly until you can pull him out.  He's like his brother, but thinner and maybe a hair longer.  His head is tilted down, his hand in your hair, and he's much more prepared to guide you with it.

            You swallow him up eagerly, not wanting to give them the same treatment, and he groans, long and low, like when you finally fall into bed after a long day hunched over the computer.

            "Yeah," Dirk says, and you feel him shift, sliding off the bed, his knees on either side of your thighs.  "Just like that."  Dave's hand pushes your head, not controlling but insisting, and you let him guide you until your nose is pressed into the coarse blond hair at the base of his dick.  Dirk's hands are on your hips.  You're going to come before you even get a chance.

            "Man, _fuck_.  You're a fucking _pro_ ," Dave gasps, and you pull your mouth off of him with a wet pop.  When you look up, you see he's got his sunglasses pushed up in his hair, and his eyes are darker than Dirk's, though if that's because of genetics or just because his pupils are dilated is anyone's guess.

            Dirk's hands find the button of your fly and pop it, fingertips pressing against your skin.  Dave's hand strokes your hair, and when Dirk says, "Go ahead," you don't hesitate to wrap your mouth around Dave again, your hands gripping his hips with all the desperation in you.

            "Yeah," he says, echoing his brother from just moments before, hoarser and thicker and even more accented, and you try to catalogue the differences between their reactions.  "Fuck, man - Dirk, fuckin' hurry up."

            "Got you," Dirk murmurs, and you don't know if it's supposed to be to Dave or you because his hand's found you inside your briefs, wrapped around you, and for a moment you feel humiliated because you aren't that big, and you're old, older than they probably expect, so you're not going to hold out for as long as them, even if you might have more experience trying.  It's been a while since a hand other than yours did what Dirk's now doing, stroking from base to head, as light as he can with so little room to move.

            You pant against Dave's dick, and he grips your hair like Dirk did, pulling you back.  "Easy, bro," he says, though he sounds hard pressed to, "We have shit to do."

            "C'mon," you say, whining, "I don't - _care_ , just..."

            "Trust me," Dirk says, hand pulling out of your pants, "You will care.  Sit on the bed.  Let us have some fun, too."

            You don't hesitate.  You climb on the bed like your life depends on it, stopping only when Dirk and Dave's hands grab at your pants and underwear, pulling them down - you want to hide, suddenly, because they might be hanging out of their flies but your pants are at your ankles now, and you're so much more vulnerable than them.  They probably don't even realize it.

            Dave kisses you, and it's hard and fast and nothing like Dirk.  His tongue brushes against yours, goads you into exploring his mouth instead of letting him tonguefuck yours, and you feel Dirk settling by your knee.  His hands move your feet out of the bundle of your pants, then pull your knees apart, slow but insisting.  You dig your toes into the carpet and try to catch your breath when Dave finally pulls away.

            Dirk pulls at your knee until you slide across the sheets, barely even sitting on the edge now, and then Dave falls to his knees beside his brother.  You know what they're going to do all over again because you've imagined twins sitting at your feet every couple of nights for as long as you've been able to.

            Dave is on your right, Dirk on your left, and they lean in close and breathe over your dick.  You can see them looking at each other.  You wish they'd do something.

            Dirk glances at you and you can see his lip quirk, and then he wraps his hand around the base and laves a long, hot, wet streak up to the head.  Dave is watching him do it, panting still; you see him reaching for himself, but Dirk's free hand grabs his wrist and stops him.  He pulls his mouth away from you, and then Dave leans in and repeats the motion, base to tip, before pressing his lips around just the head and sucking.

            Your hands grip the sheets, twisting them between your fingers, and Dirk looks up at you before leaning in to kiss your thigh, sucking on the skin, leaving a little bruise.  You stare at the both of them.

            "Do you guys-"  You immediately regret opening your mouth, but Dave hums against your dick before pulling away, looking up at you just like Dirk, except more curious.  They both stare up at you from between your legs, Dave's mouth open just a little, Dirk's in an inquisitively straight line.

            "Huh?"

            "Do you two - I mean.  Fuck, I don't-"

            "Yeah," Dirk says, casually, "Sometimes."

            You hadn't meant it - shit, you'd only wanted to ask if they maybe made out sometimes, because fuck, you'd _pay_ to see that - but now that you know that, your brain wipes clean.

            "You want us to, for you?" Dirk continues.

            "Nah," Dave answers for you as you flush and try not to look away, "He doesn't.  He wants in on this shit.  Look at him."

            "Yeah," you mumble, feeling kind of like you're at the butt of a joke here, "Yeah, I didn't mean..."

            "Good," Dirk says, "Because I can fuck Dave any time.  I'm not here for him."

            "Ouch," Dave whines, "That's fuckin' rude."

            You laugh despite yourself, and Dirk squeezes your thigh like he wants to reassure you.  "Sounds kind of like you deserve it," you say, and Dave raises a brow up at you.

            " _Thounds_ like a lot of shit," he retorts; before Dirk can do anything, you kick Dave's thigh with your foot.  " _Ow!_ "

            "I think we can find something better to do with your mouth," Dirk says, pulling at Dave's hair until his face is nearly in front to Dirk's.  "Gonna wash your mouth out when we get home."

            "You say the sweetest things," Dave deadpans, but he quiets down when his fingers loop around the base of your dick, and you go quiet because you don't know what else to do.  Dirk pulls Dave in, and you try not to make any noise at all when they press their mouths to either side of your dick, mouthing around it, kissing despite it.  You nearly rip the sheet under your hands; you can't look away.

            "Please," you whisper.  You can feel their tongues pressing against each other as they fight to see who gets to lick you, and your eyes water because you refuse to blink and miss a second of this.

            Your leg twitches and you open your mouth to warn them that you can't take much more of this, but they're already pulling away.  You ache, you so fucking much want to come, fuck letting this draw out, but they put a hand over each of your own and keep you from touching yourself, ignoring you otherwise, licking at each other's lips - Dirk bites Dave's lower lip, sucks on it, and Dave growls and tries to swallow his brother's mouth whole.

            Finally, _finally_ they part, Dave's lips puffy and red and Dirk panting quietly, and they look up at you in unison.  You've never been so turned on in your life.

            Dave leans back and pulls off his shirt; Dirk hesitates, then follows.  Where Dirk is muscled, with a few scars across his chest, faint like cat scratches, Dave is thin and smooth.  His muscles aren't nearly as defined, but you can tell that both of them work out.  Dirk reaches up and pulls at the hem of your shirt, and you try not to stumble over yourself to remove it, unbuttoning the top three buttons before pulling it over your head and throwing it blindly towards the closet.  You're a lot skinnier than them, scrawny in general, and even though your skin is darker than theirs, you can still see sallow hues in yourself that they don't have.  You don't get out enough; you haven't for years.  You feel really out of place with the two of them.

            "Fuck," Dave says, and then he's crawling up the bed, grabbing your shoulders and shoving you down into the mattress, straddling your waist.  He presses his denim-clad thighs into your waist and rubs his dick against your stomach, and you grab his hair and pull him down into a kiss, fiercely competing against him from the get-go because you already know that's the kind of thing he likes.  He growls into your mouth and ruts against you, and you try not to jerk around when you feel Dirk's mouth kissing your thigh again.

            "He's eager," Dirk says, conversationally, and you try to listen as Dave shoves his tongue into your mouth and makes you forget your name.  "He likes skinny guys."

            Dirk pushes your thighs apart and you feel him breathe against your skin, and you don't know where to focus until Dave grabs your hair and yanks.  You dig your fingers into his scalp, drag them down his neck to his shoulders, and arch up into him when Dirk cups your balls in his hands, fondling you as you gasp for air against his brother's mouth.  When you finally force Dave's face away from yours, he grins and licks his lips.  "Fuckin' knew I'd win."

            "Shut up," you gasp, and he ducks his head to suck on your collarbone.  "Fuck, you two -"

            "Yeah," Dirk says, "We're a handful."

            Dave arches his back and manages to wriggle out of his pants, and it's now that you realize they must've taken off their shoes when they came in after you did.  You laugh at that - how polite - and then Dave says, "Can I fuck you?  I wanna fuck you."

            You stare up at him, feeling his brother's hands and mouth against your balls, and you nod.  "Please," you say, and he grins.

            "That's what I figured."

            "You mind if we both want to?" Dirk asks.  "We're a little different in our technique.  You might like it."

            "God," you say, "Yes, _please_."  You want to ask them to make out some more, like maybe they'd be okay with that, but you don't.  Instead, you press your cheek into the mattress and say, "Fuck, do what you want, how can I say no?"

            "Best answer," Dave says.  "We're clean, if you are."

            You swallow and nod, even though you know intrinsically that you should never just _accept_ that, never just take anyone at their word for that, especially for a one-night stand, but you don't care.  You'll acknowledge how fucked up you are later on, and all that, but for right now, you _don't care_.

            "We're going to do our best to make sure you last long enough," Dirk says as he abandons his spot on the floor, climbing onto the bed, lounging next to you.  He's already taken off his pants.  "But you have to let us know when you get close.  Doesn't matter if we're not done, just let us know."

            "Okay."

            "And tell us if you don't like something."

            "Okay."

            "He knows what to do, bro, don't fuckin' hassle him."  Dave sucks on your throat and you roll your head back to let him.  "Don't you?" he asks against your skin.

            "Yeah," you say, "I do."

            "Good," Dave says, and then he shifts until he's pressing against Dirk; you can see him arch back, pressing his ass against Dirk's hard-on, and you suddenly wonder if you _don't_ want to see them fuck.  Dirk plays with Dave's hair.  "I want you on your knees.  You down for that?  I want you biting the fucking pillow, when I'm done with you, you're gonna be fuckin' all about saying everything I want you to."

            _Yes_ , you think, and then you say, "Yes, fuck, I'm already there."

            "Tell me I'm the prettier than Dirk," Dave says, batting his eyes at you, and you push his face away from you.  "Wow, fine.  Roll over."

            You do exactly that.  You press your knees into the mattress, not bothering to raise yourself with anything more than your elbows, because you know your shoulders won't be able to hold the position long anyway.  Dave makes quiet, appreciative noises as he moves around the bed, his knees behind yours, pushing you to splay your legs as much as you can.  His hand rests against your ass as he says, "Dirk," in this low, husky voice.  You close your eyes and try to relax.

            Dirk climbs off the bed, only to return a moment later.  You hear a cap click, and then Dave's hand is back, his fingers probing against you, circling the too-tight ring of muscles that you have to take deep breaths to try and relax.  His finger is covered in lukewarm lubrication and you hiss when he slowly presses into you, waiting when he needs to and pressing in deeper when he feels like he can, and Dirk scoots up the bed until he's resting against the headboard.  You look at him, but he's staring at Dave.  His hands are kneading his thighs.

            "Come here," you murmur, and Dave pauses, pulling his finger back enough to incorporate a second as Dirk shifts until he's sitting in front of you, hands rubbing against his legs.  He's just out of reach, but you manage to drag the tip of your tongue over his cock, and you're rewarded for your effort by a soft moan.  "You could come closer," you say, but he shakes his head.

            "No way.  I'm not risking it.  I want a chance with you when Dave's done."

            You lick at him again, though, and he does shift closer, just enough that you don't need to strain yourself.  You can hardly get him with your mouth, though, and it doesn't matter because Dave is putting a third finger inside you, pressing knuckle-deep, and when he crooks his fingers and hits your prostate, you buck and cry out.  "Oh, _god!_ "

            "Man," Dave says.  "You are fucking all about this, aren't you?"

            "Yes," you reply without hesitation.

            He crooks his fingers, but not enough.  You groan.  "How into this are you?  You want me to just fuck you with my fingers, like this?"  He presses his fingers into you and you drop your head to the mattress, only to have Dirk grab your hair and pull your head up again.  He's staring at you.

            "No," you say, your voice more a whine than anything.

            "You want me to fuck you, right?" Dave asks, his tone so casual that you can hardly stand it.

            " _Yes_ ," you whine.  "Yes, _fuck_ , come the fuck on-"

            "Dave," Dirk murmurs, and you feel your face heat up because he's still _staring at you_.  "You should see his face."

            "Does he want it?" Dave asks - his voice is like Dirk's, low, almost tremulous, and when Dirk nods, he makes a relieved noise.  "Fuck.  Okay, hold on, just a sec..."

            His fingers leave you and you pant; Dirk shifts so close that your breath bounces off his skin, and you can see that he's sweating.  There's a cap click again; Dave hisses a moment later, and then you feel the head of his dick pressing up against you.  "God," you say, looking up at Dirk, "Fucking _please_."

            "You got it," Dirk says, and then Dave is pushing in.  You cry out and heave a few breaths as he sinks in; you can tell he's trying to go fast, even though he knows better, and you rock backwards on your elbows and knees until you feel his stomach against your ass.  "That's it," Dirk says to you, and he lets go of your hair.  Dave pulls out, and your breath catches in your throat as you feel him sitting, the head of his dick against you again, not fucking in you, he's a fucking tease, that wasn't _enough_ \- and then he slams into you, shoving you against the mattress, making you dig your elbows into the sheets, your mouth pressing against Dirk's thigh.  You don't know if you made a noise, but you know you're crying out now as he starts thrusting into you, hard and heavy and frantic, and you grab at Dirk's shins and sob when he hits your prostate.

            "Tell me how it feels," Dirk is saying above you, and you don't know if you answer him out loud but all you can think is _fucking amazing, fuck, god fuck I needed this,_ and when you thinksay **_harder_** , you're rewarded with a grunt and an increase in speed.

            Dirk runs his hand through your hair, then pulls you up by your chin until you can see that he's got his dick in hand, pointing the tip at you, and when Dave thrusts in again you wrap your mouth around him, swallowing more with every jerk from Dave.  You moan around his cock, gasp for air against it, and you're getting so close, you need to stop, fuck - fuck!

            " _Wait!_ " you shout, and immediately Dave is out of you, hunched over your back and gasping for air.  "God, fuck, please, _please_ -"

            "Good," Dirk says, and you lap at him until he pushes you away.

            "God, dude, you're fucking perfect," Dave mutters, and you bury your face in the sheets.  "Seriously, fuck.  I - okay.  I need a sec.  Dirk, all yours."

            "Yes," you say, "Please."  Without even needing them to ask.

            Dirk chuckles and gently pulls you up, pushing you until you're sitting on your knees.  "Lie on your back, okay?" he asks, and you nod, following his instructions to the letter.  "When I'm done, we'll do whatever you want," he adds, and you cover your face with your hands because you don't know _what_ you want to do.  More like, you don't know what you could do before you lose it completely.

            Dave is sitting on the edge of the bed next to you, taking deep breaths.  When he looks over at you, you can practically feel him tremor.  "Jesus," you say.  "Are you okay?"

            Dave laughs but doesn't answer beyond shooting you a thumbs-up.  You wonder what would happen if you got a chance to fuck him.  You kind of want to see how much of that casual too-cool-for-school attitude you could really break down, if you tried.

            You realize you've never thought about anything like that before, and look for Dirk instead.

            His lube-slicked hand is wrapped around himself, pumping slowly, and you can see his eyes roaming over you.  Your insecurities flare up momentarily, but when he puts his clean hand against your stomach, you find yourself calming down.  If he was disgusted by you, he'd have bailed already.  You don't think a guy like Dirk does anything he's not fully into.

            You don't need him to tell you what to do when he slides his hand under you; you bend your knees and push yourself up, arching your back as he slides his knees under you long enough to press his dick against you, inching in smoothly but slowly, almost painfully slow compared to Dave.  When he hunches over you, hands fisting the sheets on either side of your head, you look up and see that his hair is coming loose, hanging more around his face than before, and his eyes are too intense for you to stare at for long.  He doesn't make a noise, not right away, but you feel his chest hitch against yours as he sinks completely into you.

            Dave is watching the two of you.  Dirk doesn't say anything when he pulls back, not out all the way, rocking his hips with a steady, heavy movement that you know means _stamina_.  He can go for a long time - longer than you, longer than Dave.

            "He could fuck you for an hour straight without coming," Dave murmurs into your ear, lying on his side, hunched out enough to not interfere with Dirk as he methodically pounds into you.  You try to catch your breath, but every thrust takes it away from you before you can really get control.  You grab at the sheets and find Dave's hand instead; he grips your hand tight, his short nails digging into your palm, and you clench your eyes shut.  "Wanna see something cool, though?" he continues, and you guess he takes your gasping as an affirmative, because he says, "Hey, bro, he likes it rough.  Crank it up."

            "Gotcha."  Dirk presses into you, swallowed up completely inside you, and you open your eyes to stare at Dave, who just stares back like he's trying to analyze your face.

            The pace Dirk set is suddenly upended, and he slams his hips against you with bruising force, his fingers digging into your thighs and pushing your legs up until you have no choice but to hook your knees over his shoulders.  " _Fuck!_ " you shout, scrabbling against the sheets, twisting Dave's hand in yours, and Dave makes an unknowable noise.  "God, please -"

            "You want to stop?" Dirk asks, and though he sounds just as passive as usual, there's a hitch in his throat, a gasp held in with pure effort.

            "N-No," you try to say, and then he finds your prostate, angling his hips and driving into it once - " _please_ " - twice - " _hhn-_!" - three times, and your a gibbering mess.  You're going to come.  You can't stop yourself, you're going to fucking come, you don't _want to_ , not yet, " _Stop!_ "

            Dirk is out before you even realize you said anything, and Dave grabs your hands as you reach for your dick, heavy and painfully hard, slick with precome.  You choke back a sob.  "Nah, man, don't," he says.

            "Just a little longer," Dirk reassures you, hunched over you so that when you look up, it's him you see.  His hair sticks to his sweaty forehead, and he looks like he wants nothing more than to keep going.

            "Yeah, man.  We wanna hear what you've got in mind, first."

            You look at Dave, and he stares back at you.  "I want to fuck you," you say, breathless, a little affronted by how easily it comes out, but you're too close to being done and you don't want to lose out on this yet.

            Dave licks his lips, and his fingers tighten around your hands.  "Okay," he says.  "Okay.  Dirk -"

            "Yeah, bro."  Dirk looks over you one more time, then shifts.  You can see his cock hanging between his legs, and you want to fuck him too, so badly.  But you know your limits.  "You want me anywhere in particular?" he asks you, and you stare up at him once again.

            "Yes," you say, without knowing where.  If he fucks you, you're going to come before there's even a fight.  But -

            "Lets get Dave figured out first," Dirk says, like he knows exactly what's going through your head.  "How are you gonna want him?"

            "On his knees."  Dave makes this desperate little sound, and when you look at him, he's swallowing heavily, eyes dilated and entire body tight.  "That's what you like, huh."

            "Fuck."

            "Thought so."  And then you reach up and hook a hand behind his neck, pulling him down until you could _just_ kiss him.  "I want to fuck you into the mattress."

            " _Jesus_ ," Dirk breathes, and you try hard not to look at him, keeping your eyes on Dave, who looks like he wants to come already.

            "Okay," he whispers, and you see more of his loud-and-in-charge persona fall away.

            "Give us the bed for a minute," Dirk says, and you let go of Dave, who immediately helps support Dirk as you wriggle out from under him.  You don't know where to go, so you just stand at the foot of the bed, watching the way the two of them move.  Dirk lets Dave get comfortable, resting on his hands and knees, and then pulls his legs apart; you can see Dave shuddering.

            Dirk looks at you.  "If you want, you can just... walk around.  And watch us.  Touch yourself a little, but only if Dave can see you.  He likes that kind of thing."

            "Shut up," Dave hisses.

            "You're a fucking exhibitionist, get over it."  Dirk grabs the bottle of lube and flips the cap up, and he looks at you as he rubs it over his fingertips.  "He likes being watched."

            "And you like watching?" you ask, and you don't mind that your voice is shaking.  Dirk smirks, just a little.

            "Yeah.  So it works out."

            Dave whines when Dirk runs a lubed-up finger against his ass, one hand spreading his cheeks.  You can't take your eyes away from the way Dirk plays with him, squeezing his ass, leaning in to lick at the puckered ring of muscle.  Dave nearly falls over trying to lift a hand to his mouth, and he whines again, louder.  You move around the bed, your legs barely able to support you, until you can see Dave's face.  His mouth is open, head drooping, and you hear the sound of Dirk's mouth against him.  Dave lifts his head and looks at you; he looks like he wants to say something, but instead, he just moans and closes his eyes.  You wait until you see them open again to wrap a hand around yourself; you don't risk overdoing it, just holding yourself, stroking just a little, but Dave's eyes fixate on your cock and it's almost too much as it is.  He looks hungry.

            "Dirk," you say, and the brother looks up, resting his chin against Dave's ass like he's been interrupted in the middle of a very mundane task.  You almost laugh.  "Can I...?"

            "Yeah, sure," he says, and you move to take his place behind Dave.  Dirk clambers off the bed, stroking himself idly, and he drags the desk chair over until he can sit in Dave's line of sight.  You hear Dave whimper.

            You find the lube and coat your fingers in it, rubbing it until it warms up, and then you press two fingers into Dave.  You imagine he can handle it, and from the way he jerks back into your hand, you weren't mistaken.  "Fuck," you say, "You don't need this, do you?"

            Dave shakes his head, but Dirk says, "He likes it."

            "Shut _up_ ," Dave snarls; his voice hitches and he lets out a low cry when you bend your fingers inside him, probing around - you can tell you haven't found his prostate, but you know you will.

            "If you want," Dirk says, "You can fuck him until you come.  I don't mind watching."  You look at Dirk, and he raises an eyebrow.  "That's not what you want, though."

            "No," you murmur, and Dave whines as you pull your fingers out.  "No, uh.  I - can we..."

            "Yeah," Dirk says, standing, still stroking himself so fucking casually, "I got you.  Let's do it."

            "Fuck," Dave says, "I don't give a shit what you do, just fucking _hurry up_."

            Dirk reaches out and smacks Dave's ass hard enough to leave a pink mark.  You're starting to get used to his yelps.  "Shut up."  You reach out and adjust Dave, pushing him down onto his elbows; he grabs a pillow and clutches at it, bowing his back and bringing his ass lower, like he knows exactly what's going on.

            You know they've probably done this before, who knows how many times, but you don't really care.  Dirk crawls behind you, and you put your hands on Dave's waist.  He's shaking under you, and his skin is so hot against your hands that you almost worry you might get burned.  Dirk nudges you, and you force yourself not to take too much time as you line yourself up with Dave, pushing into him slowly.  He groans the entire time it takes you to slide into him, and when you stop, he snarls out an obscenity you don't actually understand.

            Dirk presses you, pushes at you until you're arched over Dave, Dave's back bent beneath you, and then you feel Dirk pushing into you with none of the care from before.  Dave moans and wriggles and gasps under the two of you.

            "You don't want me to go easy, do you," Dirk asks, almost in your ear.  You suck in a breath and shake your head.  "Good."

            He pulls back, lets you pull with him, and Dave moans.  "Fucking hurry _up_!" he snaps again.

            "Okay," Dirk says, and then he's slamming into you, forcing you into Dave, and you frantically try to tilt your hips until -

            " _Fuck shit goddamn_ ," Dave howls, and you think he almost comes with that one thrust.  He yanks at the pillow in his arms and sobs, "Fuck, please, _please_!"

            Dirk sets the pace and you force yourself along, digging your chewed back nails into Dave's sides as you try not to come, but Dirk's already pistoning into you and Dave is so fucking tight...

            You reach down and wrap your hand around Dave's cock, jerking him off as you thrust, crying out when Dirk hits you in just the right way, and you wish you could do more than just this, but it doesn't seem to matter.

            "Yeah," Dirk mutters, but it's overshadowed by Dave crying out, "Fuck me, _fuck me, Sollux_ -" and you don't know where you are any more, because this has to be a dream, this has to be a joke or something, and you come before either of them.  Dave whines and you let him slip away from you, but when Dirk tries to pull away, you reach back and grab his arm.

            "Don't," you gasp, oversensitive but unwilling to let this go that easily, and you pull Dave back, push him onto his back and wrap your mouth around him.  He grabs your head and desperately fucks your mouth, jerking under you like a livewire.  You feel it when Dirk loses control; his thrusts are suddenly sporadic, as frantic as Dave's hips bucking up into your mouth.

            When Dave comes you swallow everything he has, sucking him off until he starts to writhe and say, " _Too much_."  He pushes you away and then yanks you back, kisses you hard, and Dirk tenses like a bowstring before snapping, pulling you flush against him as he comes in hot spurts.  You don't care if he came inside you.  You don't care about anything.  You're eighteen-hundred miles from home, stuck in a dead-end job and completely fucking alone, and Dirk is whispering your name into your ear as Dave sucks on your tongue.

            "Fuck," Dave mutters against your lips, some five minutes later, sprawled half under you, half beside you.  "Fuck, Sollux.  Man."

            "You needed that," Dirk mumbles from behind you, his hand on your hip.  Dave scoots closer.

            "Yeah," you say, quiet, "I... did.  I really fucking did."

            "That'll be three-hundred dollars," Dave drawls, boneless and sleepy, "Each."

            Dirk kicks him.  "Shut up."

            "I'm just jokin'."

            "Seriously, he is," Dirk adds, and you shrug.

            "Wouldn't be surprised," you hear yourself say, but you're too fucking tired to care.  "Would explain everything a lot better."

            "What, we look like hookers?" Dirk asks, amused.  Dave scowls.

            "I'm no fuckin' hooker, I'm a goddamn escort, shut up."

            "You're a hooker, face it."

            You sigh and laugh a little, and Dave presses his face into your chest.  You think he was blushing.  You don't know.

            "No," you try to correct yourself, "Just.  Being into me."

            "Fuck you," Dirk says, and he sounds serious.  You can't look to see, but he punches your shoulder.

            "Yeah," Dave mumbles, and from the way he breathes you can tell he doesn't even know where he is anymore, he's so close to passing out, "Fuck you.  I wanna hear you..."

            "We pick guys we think will let loose with us," Dirk mutters, and you try not to cringe when he combs through your hair.  "We don't look for shallow twinks who just want to cross shit off their bucket list."

            "Again with the buckets," you mumble.

            "Yeah, well, we've heard that plenty of fucking times.  You weren't there to get laid, which meant you were a perfect fit.  Plus, you know.  Gemini."

            You chuckle.  "Yeah.  Lucky me."

            "Don't get me wrong, we're not going to be coming around trying to woo you.  But.  You're cool.  We're probably going to leave our numbers."

            "I'm thirty."

            "Twenty-three.  The both of us."

            "Okay."

            "Exactly."  Dirk presses his hand against your cheek, and you close your eyes.  "Dave doesn't fall asleep in the arms of attractive young assholes.  He picks scrawny older dudes every time.  Get some sleep."

            "Okay," you repeat, and when you close your eyes, you're pretty sure you're going to wake up to this being a hazy dream.

* * *

            You wake up at half-past eleven hugging a pillow.  Everything fucking _hurts_.  You have a mild hangover, and your body feels like you ran a marathon when you weren't paying attention.  It takes you a whole two minutes of blinking at the closet until you remember last night - and yeah.  You're alone.

            You sit up, taking your time, and try to remember what the fuck happened after you fell asleep.  Did you wake up?  Did you say goodbye?  Did they?  Shit, were they even real?

            Yeah, definitely real.  You have a hickey on your thigh and your neck feels like it's probably pretty bruised up, and you are going to be walking cockeyed for a fucking week.  Your glasses are folded neatly on top of the alarm clock, and your keys, wallet and phone lie on the nightstand.

            You check for messages, expecting maybe a voicemail from the apartment complex saying your apartment's ready.  Instead, you find your phone open to your contacts - right between _Aradia_ and _Feferi_ are _Dave_ and _Dirk_ , lining up nicely in unison, one after another.

            You try not to think too much about that, and go to grab a fucking shower.  While you're at it, you're going to shave.  And then you're going to sort all this shit out.

            And maybe text one of the twins.

            Maybe.


End file.
